knights_of_ashfallfandomcom-20200213-history
Tales of Dead Hand Protocol
The following stories were told or played out in the Dead Hand Protocol campaign. Context will be described for each entry. Hole in the Wall This tale was written for the Valorborne during their Phase One event: the memory of Edial Redblade in his sojourn in the Redridge Mountains. It is an adaptation of The Three Virtues. Lurid green light rises slowly, fitfully, illuminating first the outline, and then the substance of a skeletal gryphon. Its beak moves over and begins to nip at a pile of broken, festering corpses. "Ey, get off." A man is now outlined, and he shoves at the skeletal gryphon's head. It lets out a gargling sort of cry, and its beak clacks at his arm, within an inch of severing it. You are suddenly aware of the stink of rot, the sick smell of coagulated blood and fluid, the heavy odor of embalming fluid. If it were anything but a memory, it would have choked and gagged anyone whose lungs still needed air and whose stomach still needed food. "Miasma." A hollow voice echoes from the darkest reach of the cave, and the gryphon immediately looks to the speaker. "Miasma, come." The skeletal gryphon bestows one last malevolent look at the necromancer before rising. It shakes itself, its bones rattling against one another, and clatters its way across the cave. As it goes, the nimbus of unholy light about it plays over alchemical apparatus on scavenged tables--which as swiftly disappear as it moves out of range. In the sickly, pale, unwholesome light, the shapes of men and elves and orcs shuffle about--some whole, some stooped or missing limbs--in a hushed hurry. Some hastily pack away tools and chemicals into crates marked with seals of various nations, while others pick over more piles of broken corpses--the fruit of an unsavory harvest. Finally, the gryphon crouches at the side of what must be its master. The ghastly light washes over the a death knight--a tall human, his scalp hairless, his face showing signs of rot, and possessed of only one eye--and another man attending the master, drawing a needle and thread through a rent in the side of the death knight. "Please don't move, master," the necromancer pleads. The death knight looks down upon him, and the necromancer resumes his work feverishly, his hands trembling. Another servant moves into the memory-light and bows. "Lord Redblade," intones his new voice, with an obsequious whine. "Lord Redblade, we've rounded up the ghouls, and we're about fifteen minutes from having the equipment packed away." "Good." The death knight's voice sends a chill through you. "You will cart the equipment over the bridge while the villagers celebrate their delivery, and wait until they are too drunk to see before herding the ghouls." "Where are we going, my lord?" "To the next safe house." "And what of the paladin, my lord?" the servant whines, and steps back a little when Redblade growls and sits up straighter. "It was a fluke, I'm sure, my lord," he adds hastily. "But he ought to be punished for his insolence in raising his hand against one so mighty as you." Redblade relaxes into his chair again, the “tailor” trying desperately not to break the thread or tear the delicate skin. "It was a fluke," Redblade repeats. "And for now, they think me driven out and defeated--a fluke myself. It is well to leave it that way." The servant hesitates, but finally bows again. "The day will come," he swears, "when all will know your might and majesty, my lord." "Yes. Now go, make my wishes known." It happens that the “tailor” had just tied off the thread when Redblade stood up. "And make it done orderly. We can risk nothing at this point. Order, that is what we will have--what we must have. "This world is ending," declaims Redblade. "Our enemies stand at the gates, ravening. We shall bring order, and unite all the world together in a single army to meet them! Come, my people! Come, let us take those whom we have redeemed, and go to gather more!" The scene begins to fade, and the specter beside you walks quietly to the pile of bones you can now see. He stands over it, turns to face you sadly, and disappears. The cave is quiet now, as if this had never taken place. Only a few signs remain that Redblade’s operation was here, but now you know them for what they are. The Necropoleis Launch On the final night of the culling missions, the coalition's attacks were so effective that Redblade panicked, and ordered all of the necropoleis to launch at once. This was what the coalition witnessed: A cheer goes up across the field… But under it--literally below it in pitch--you hear a sound so low, and of such great volume that you feel it, in your chest, a hard vibration that seems to spread through your arms and throat. It resolves into a regular rhythm, and your heart struggles to adjust to it. You feel the leading edge of panic seize you. Beyond the smoke and brimstone and charred undead on the field, you see a massive shape rise into the sky. Shadowy, seeming to shed the sunlight, and larger than a fortress, it shoulders upward. Talramas rises. It hangs in midair, turning slowly, ever so slowly. Then, it stops turning, and seems almost to lurch southwesterly. Ungainly, ungodly, Talramas moves over and then away from you. In the far distance, over the Temple City of En’kilah, you see another necropolis, steadily growing smaller against the northern lights. Memories of the Death Knights These are the memories that were recovered from the sub-bosses, Redblade's henchmen. Tora Rothoof's Memory Tora Rothoof, whom the Blacktide Brethren caught slaughtering proto-drakes and stealing their bones, was present as Edial Redblade raised frostwyrms--three; though the memories are slurred together, there were three distinct locations that she saw. She admired and envied his skill in creating these things, much more powerful than her gutlasher and mandra-gore-a constructs. Harold Nelson's Memory Nelson remembered a discussion with a death knight who defected (and who was slain by the Knights of Ashfall); apparently, this was before Redblade began exerting his control over his lieutenants: "But how will we prevent him from becoming another Lich King?" asked the unnamed death knight. "His power grows with every new experiment, every new surgery." "Simple," said Nelson. "We'll convince him to split off some of his powers and imbue them into his frostwyrms. Later, we--you and I and the others who haven't been stupid enough that Kaspin could kill them--can come back and destroy them, one by one, and take those powers for ourselves." Erthan the Rejected's Memory Erthan the Rejected was actually devoted; he was not undead, and therefore was sufficiently different from the others. "But are you not afraid of losing these powers, Lord of Death?" Erthan asked Edial after one of the frostwyrms was empowered. "I am not opposed to making them more forceful weapons, but...at the cost of your own improvements?" "The frostwyrms will return if they are attacked," Edial said dismissively. "They will come to me. Thus, even if they fall, I will be able to reach that short distance and take back what is mine." "I see." Erthan seemed satisfied. "Now, regarding your skull, I do not think I can replace it; but if we plate it with saronite..."Category:Dead Hand Protocol Category:Tales